


Prologue

by Emariia



Series: You Make Me Worry [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Other, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 06:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17996993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emariia/pseuds/Emariia
Summary: All relationships have to start somewhere, and Loki's, like most things he doesn't expect (such as his adoption and the fact he can do magic), starts with a poisoned cup of mead and an unfamiliar pain in his body.





	Prologue

Loki’s head whipped up and he stared off onto the gilded wall opposite him as if it would give him the answer to why he felt immense, crippling pain spread through his body, originating at his forehead. It wasn’t nerve numbing or incapacitating pain, and it felt like it  _ could _ have been incapacitating, but as if it was held behind a veil. He ignored everyone around him as he stared out over the party and the guests, ignoring the current retelling of another of Thor’s ‘conquests’.

 

So that ruled out poisons, but not curses, and the only one in the palace besides him who practiced magic was his mother Freya, to his knowledge. 

 

That left only…

 

Loki stood and left swiftly angling himself towards the table filled with wine and veering sharply through the doors to the right of the table. He relaxed in small increments as the sound of the feast behind him got farther and farther away, As the sound faded out, he tuned his ears to the halls around him. Once he was sure he wasn’t being followed (at least physically) he broke into a sprint and  _ bolted _ for his quarters and his divination mirror. 

 

Loki quickly and efficiently tuned the mirror to the pain he was experiencing. Knowing that the times of the other realms laid a little behind Asgardian time, he was not surprised that he saw the entity in the mirror laying peacefully. 

 

That he  _ was _ surprised that the entity was a babe and Midgardian and  _ magical _ besides was a thing to ponder over at another time. His soulmate was in trouble  _ now _ . 

 

Loki watched attentively as his soulmate’s mother (or so he assumed, they both had the same vibrant green eyes) placed him down gently into his crib and stood before it, casting one of the ancient blood protection spells that Loki knew would only work if she died in the name of protecting him. It was valiant of her to want to bind her own soul to her son to protect him, and Loki knew she did not have enough magical strength remaining to complete the spell herself, so he helped.  Loki sent a steady stream of his own magic to support the spell, and closed his eyes briefly at the feeling of his magic blending with hers. It was warm, fierce and loving, and worked well against his icy strength. She ended the spell and staggered forwards, bracing against the crib. Her child reached up a hand to her face, babbling softly. She reached down and stroked his head gently, stroking through the black tufts and smoothing them down. He cooed at her and she smiled shakily at him. 

 

There was a pounding against Loki’s door and another on his wards, but he ignored them. His mother Frigga had the key to his wards, and if she was not the one at his door then they could wait. His soulmate had priority.

 

“You’ll be safe, Harry,” She whispered, and Loki seared the name into his soul. “You’ll be safe, and you’ll  _ live _ , and you’ll always have me with you.” 

 

The door behind her banged open and she whirled around, her eyes flickering to the prone figure on the floor past the stairs, and pain flashing through them for a moment before determination poured through her veins and the mourning widow turned to a warrior queen in an instant before Loki’s eyes. 

 

This was a woman who was worthy of Valhalla. 

 

Loki held his breath as the pale monster asked her to stand aside. He could  _ see _ the promise to spare her binding him, but she did not move. When the monster killed her, Loki saw the monster’s magic draining from him and smiled. The monster cast the spell again, and Loki was not worried.  The spell was weak and fractured, and Loki  _ saw _ the broken vow latching the monster’s soul as a servant to his soulmate, the innocent babe laying in the cradle, who wanted his mother more than anything else. The monster could not resurrect the dead, and so he was obliterated. 

 

Loki breathed a slow sigh of relief and watched his soulmate for long minutes. Soon, the pounding on his door became too loud and obnoxious to ignore, and he rolled his eyes. Mentally repeating his soulmate’s name again, he dissolved the connection to his mirror and straightened himself out. He grabbed a book from his shelf and thumbed it open to a page about poisons before opening his door cautiously. A slew of guards were standing outside. 

 

“What is it?” Loki demanded, a scowl on his face. 

 

“The king demands that you return to the festivities.” 

 

“Tell the king that I suspect I’ve been poisoned, and must conduct research and heal myself lest it become dangerous.” And he wasn’t even lying. He’d been slipped poison several times through the night, but he’d always caught and neutralized it before it touched his lips. There would be evidence on and in his cup, and there had been one or two that would have definitely killed him if he had not neutralized them in time. As is the fate of a magic user, he had learned. 

 

The guard’s faces turned white, and they bowed to him before marching back down the corridor. 

 

Loki shut his door and checked his wards, patching up the small seams and cracks that were made in the magic because they’d beat on it for so long. 

 

Loki stood in the center of his room, his eyes closed and the book hanging from one hand. He took a deep breath, as deep as he could, and released his tension with the air he’d taken inside himself. He opened his eyes slowly, and they were filled with a determined glint. 

 

He’d seen his soulmate. He knew which realm, which planet, and which language he spoke. Last he checked, only around 350 million humans spoke English as a first language. He knew his soulmate’s first name and his approximate age, that he was magical, his hair color and his eye color. 

 

It would be  _ so easy _ even without the soulbond to find him now. 

 

But Loki could imagine that it would be strange to have your adult soulmate be with and around you from your infancy to adulthood, and it would be even stranger because of how quickly human Midgardians aged. He could wait. 

 

Besides, it’d only be 17 Midgardian years, and then he’d be of age. Barely  _ anything _ happened in 17 years. 

 

What’s the worst that could happen? 


End file.
